Create a scene in which a character wants something, but the expression of that desire is indirect in some way and/or a scene in which characters seem to be talking about one thing but are also talking about another. In other words, the implicit and explicit conversations will diverge, either because of misrepresentations— characters pretending to want or feel something other than what they actually want or feel-- or indirection—characters trying to get ideas across, but with language that is meant to soften, prettify, muffle, or otherwise make their desires more palatable to themselves or others.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Dialogue
Create a scene in which a character wants something, but the expression of that desire is indirect in some way and/or a scene in which characters seem to be talking about one thing but are also talking about another. In other words, the implicit and explicit conversations will diverge, either because of misrepresentations— characters pretending to want or feel something other than what they actually want or feel-- or indirection—characters trying to get ideas across, but with language that is meant to soften, prettify, muffle, or otherwise make their desires more palatable to themselves or others.
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On the Bridge
On Christmas Day, 1972, at 2:12 A.M. the mercury sank to a new record low of 26 degrees. They were driving a ′53 Ford coupe north across the Golden Gate bridge and there was no one else brave or lonely enough to be out. Gina was driving while Larry beat his fists upon the dashboard.
“Damn it Gina! I think we should turn around. Let’s work for another few months and leave when it’s warmer and we have more money.”
“Work? You mean I’ll work, right? It’s my ass that sells⎯not yours. I’m the one walking the streets. I’m the one with the scum of society. I’m still trying to figure out what you do; besides take my money. And you know...”
Larry punched her hard in the upper right temple and she swerved and slammed the brakes. Wet crimson drops began to drip into her auburn hair. The car stood motionless. Larry broke into his immediate I’m sorry babe reaction, which was certainly becoming a reflex by now. Gina leaped out of the car, grabbed her Cuban handbag from the backseat and slung it up over her head so the strap lay diagonal across her spindly torso. Larry just sat in the car believing she would cool down. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his unwashed black hair. He opened his eyes and was just about to light a cigarette but he looked over where she was standing and she was gone.
“That bitch!” he yelled into the vacuum of the silence.
He jumped out and began pacing.
“Gina! Gina! Come on, come back let’s talk. I’m sorry babe. Come on it’s cold out here. Get back in the car.”
She didn’t reply. The car was parked sideways across two lanes pointing north and Larry walked to the side facing Alcatraz. As he approached he could hear her whimpering. She had hopped the rail and was perched out on the iron ledge four feet below.
“Gina, what the fuck are you doing down there? Get your ass back in the car or you’re going to get round two!”
“I’m going to jump, Larry. I’m tired of this shit. I’m tired of you. I wish I never met you!”
She sobbed uncontrollably. The wind came and went in harsh gusts, which made her sway in her high heels like a tender sapling. Then Larry noticed the Cuban handbag, the handbag which had all of their money, the $3200 they had saved six months for, and he regretted having let her keep it all inside of there.
“Gina, honey...I love you. Listen you are a little upset so just come back over here and we can talk and I’ll drive this time. I’ll drive us to Oregon and we’ll start over like we planned.”
“Larry, I can’t do it anymore. I hate myself. Every night, every day, every minute I think about all the shame I’ve caused my parents. And I don’t want to be me anymore. I don’t want my future children to know me like this, to know of this...to know their mother the whore.”
“Gina, look honey...your purse is throwing your balance off. Hand it to me and I’ll throw it in the car and you can stay out there and think while we talk. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
The chilling wind kept up its abuse and she nearly lost her balance with each of its gusts. Her cheeks were frigid, red, and raw. Her tears, moist and warm, were being blown off her face before they had the chance to slide down her pointed cheekbones.
“I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want my baby to live a life like this. I don’t want...”
“Baby, what the hell are you talking about? Are you pregnant? It’s O.K. if you are...we can fix it honey. Come on now. I love you. Just hand me your purse now and we’ll talk this thing out.”
“This isn’t how I wanted it. I want to get married and have a family. I’m only nineteen and this isn’t how it was supposed to turn out. Larry, why don’t you love me?”
“I do, I do, I do love you. Gina, this is ridiculous. Walk a little closer and I’ll pull you up and we can talk about this.”
She took a step in his direction, paused, and then retreated.
“I think I should jump. It’s never going to get better. You’ll never marry me. I’ll never be happy. My life is a joke, a cruel sick...I never should have been born....joke.”
A strong gust came upon her and she stumbled to the side and all her weight balanced upon the side of one heel, which gave out, and she fell hard upon the iron catwalk. Another gust hit her and she fell over the side and dangled above the bay below.
The strap of the handbag was snagged upon one of the thick iron bolts and she held the strap like a rope with her left hand while her right hand held on to the bare metal of the beam.
“Larry, HELP! Help me Larry! Help!”
“Hold on babe, hold on.”
Then he disappeared. He ran to the car and opened the trunk as fast as he could. He grabbed the old umbrella Gina’s grandmother had given her. He ran back to the side, knelt down, and stuck the handle of it through the slots in the railing. Gina was screaming, but the winds and his adrenalin muffled it all and the loudest sounds he heard were the words in his own mind.
“Gina, honey...I’m going to get ya’. Pull your hand off the strap because you’re going to slip from that.”
He hooked the umbrella handle through the strap and as Gina pulled her hand off the strap and grabbed the I-beam he lifted the handbag away. He disappeared again. He strolled back to the car and carefully tucked the bag under the driver’s seat. He walked back to the side and she was gone. He looked down and to the sides and then lit a cigarette. He drew a few drags from it while looking at Alcatraz. He wished he could own it and live there like Napoleon on Elba Island. He walked back to the car, pulled the money out of the handbag, and tossed the bag over the side of the bridge. He slowly drove away, but not north. He made a U-turn and headed back to the city.
Dialogue
The door slammed shut, caught me by surprise. I didn’t have to look, I could tell by the force of the slam that it was him. I was sitting on the sofa with my back to the main door, waiting for his return. He was back right around the expected time, yet in the silence of their living room the bang still had me skip a beat.
“I got you something.” His voice came from the hallway.
“Oh, You’re back.”
He made his way to the living room, gave me a rushed after-work kiss. He was carrying a brown bag, too small to be groceries, too big to be a ring. He looked sharp and on top of things as usual. Sometimes I thought he was way too young to carry himself that well.
“I heard about your grandpa. I’m so sorry.” I said.
“Look, two tickets to the big game. Front row seats!”
“How come you didn’t tell me?”
“Are you kidding? It’s a surprise! I spent three days scavenging for tickets.”
“Now, about your grandpa.”
“Oh, well it’s one of those things.” He shifted his stance. He was standing right behind the sofa, tickets in hand. From where I was sitting I had to twist my neck at a weird angle to maintain eye contact. “It happened so quickly really, his doctors expected him to put a longer fight, but I guess we all knew that... I mean you must’ve known too when I told you he was admitted…”
I drifted away a little bit, wondered. How can a creature so caring manage to appear so distant? I imagined him weeping and sobbing. It was a more realistic image for a man of such tender nature. I felt that I could see right through his show. I snapped back. He was telling another one of those stories about the crazy man at his office.
“… so I asked him why he’s growing his pony-tail so long, I mean it looks ridiculous with him being practically bald otherwise, and guess what he says?”
Silence.
“He says, he plans to cut it eventually and use it to make a natural hair wig for when he’s completely bald!”
I smiled. This guy must be completely nuts. But at least he’s being revealing of it. I stood up, paced to the kitchen counter, and fixed me a glass of cold water.
“So how’s your novel coming along? Did you kill that miserable guy?” He asked me.
“He jumped off a building, but still didn’t manage to kill himself. He landed on a convertible car, killed the poor driver who involuntarily cushioned his fall, survived with painful injuries, and now he’s being tried for manslaughter!”
He giggled rather loudly, but somehow it showed how sad he was. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’m safe around you, will all these sadistic ideas you keep brewing in your…”
“Honey, is this the same grandfather that you told me stories of when you were a kid?” I moved closer, stood right next to him by the kitchen counter.
His posture weakened a bit. I felt like I had peeled off another layer. There was a long pause.
“We were close, him and I, when I was a kid.”
I let him breathe, examined his hands rubbing slightly against each other.
“It sucks how far away it is. I mean by the time I fly over the Atlantic, the funeral would be all over.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not that I’m sad or anything. I mean the man lived a long, rich, happy life. I hope to live half of his… It’s just that…”
He walked back and forth a couple of steps, examined an old stain on the carpet by rubbing it with his left foot.
“Thanks for the tickets baby.” I finally muttered, looking him in the eyes.
“Oh Liz, I just hate to break an old promise.”
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